Cowboy Bebop Angel Blues
by gametaken
Summary: Spike and Faye get their next job after a very long while searching for a missing person. Will the job turn out good or will it be a waste of time?


Cowboy Bebop: Angel Blues

Chapter One

By gametaken

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Cowboy Bebop or any products and/or characters produced by it.

Author's Note: I just realized something; I've yet to produce a serious Cowboy Bebop fan fic! So, because of that certain lack, here it is! The entire fan fic is going to be in Spike's 1st person view. nn It gives it that old detective TV series feel that I love so much! Here we go!

(Spike's 1st person)

There was nothing to do. There never was anything to do. I lay there, staring up at the revolving ceiling fan in the Bebop, wondering whether or not Jet was going to come back with a good bounty job.

I seriously doubted that, though. For some odd reason, all the fugitives are laying low; playing it safe. That's not like them.

"Spike, I'm back!"

I didn't bother to sit up to greet Faye. She disappointed me because she wasn't Jet.

"Yo," I said, waving a hand up in the air.

Although I couldn't see her, I knew Faye had that expression on her face that told me she was in an attitude. Women.

"Is that all you can say, Spike? 'Yo'?" She sighed and I could hear her foot steps coming closer. Next thing I knew, I had her pretty face looking down on me, her short hair cascading about her face like some dark wreath.

"What did you expect?" I replied. "Confetti and caviar?"

"Caviar? What the Hell is wrong with you, Spike?"

"How were the races?"

"What do you think?" she retorted, moving over to take a seat on the coffee table next to me. "All my horses lost! What a bummer, huh?"

"Don't tell me you lost ALL of your money?" I was half expecting the answer that was formulating in my mind: I could, but then I'd be lying.

"I could, but then I'd be lying, wouldn't I?"

I let out a slow breath and looked over to the old girl. "Maybe you should try dogs instead of horses, Faye."

"With my luck, I'd lose money on them, too."

I closed my eyes to the moment of silence between us. I could feel her eyes staring at me as though it was my fault she lost all of her money. I was definitely not going to give her any more. Then, she broke the silence.

"I've got a job you might be interested in, Spike."

Music to my ears.

"What is it?" I asked, opening an eye to peek over at her.

She pulled out a folded up piece of paper from her shirt, if you could call it a shirt, and tossed it on my chest. "Read it and weep."

I took the paper and unfolded it, somewhat curious as to what it would say. Knowing the kind of work Faye usually brings me, it probably wouldn't pay much.

A small photograph slipped out of the folds of the paper as I unfolded it. I picked it up and found myself looking at a beautiful young woman with dark tan skin and long, wavy, raven black hair that seemed to caress her cheeks like feathers. Her eyes were an intense orange color, surrounded by the dark frame of her lashes.

"Pretty girl," I said.

"Read the paper, Spike," Faye said, egging me on.

"Alright, no need to push," I said, returning my gaze to the paper. I read out loud what it said on the paper; it was sort of a bio of the girl in the picture.

"Emma Sanchez; the daughter of wealthy business tycoon, Esteban Sanchez. Says here her father passed away when she was fourteen. She took over her father's company after he passed away . . ." I trailed off from there, scanned over the rest of it, and began again at what I thought was an important point. "Emma's now missing and her mother, Julia Sanchez, is looking for someone to find her. She's paying three million wulong for the job."

I nearly choked when I saw the amount being paid. "Three million?" I sat bolt upright and looked from the paper to Faye and back again.

Faye nodded her head with a smirk. "Uh-huh, that's right, three million. Normally I would take the job by myself, but this is something I can't do alone. So, you interested?"

I sighed, looked at the picture of Emma, and then sighed again. Three million was hard to say no to, especially with our current need for money. "I don't know . . ."

"What!" Faye said, jumping to her feet. "Three MILLION wulong, Spike! How can you say 'no' to that!"

I looked up at the woman with a sarcastic expression. "You know I'm joking, right?"

"Huh?" Faye asked, perplexed at first. Then she was steaming, a vein popping up on her forehead. "Ggrrrrr . . . DAMNIT, SPIKE, DON'T DO THAT!"

She sent a blow to the back of my head that I normally would've been able to dodge, but I knew Faye too well. She needed that to let off her steam or else it would only build.

I rubbed the sore spot on my head and stood up. Stretching my arms and legs, I looked around for the missing link known as Edward. "Where's Ed?"

"Huh? Ed? She's with Jet and Ein," Faye said, putting her hands behind her head.

"Oh, yeah, they had to take Ein to the vet. Oh, well, I guess it's you and me, then."

Faye passed a glimpse over at me before asking, "Why you and me?"

I held the paper up for her to see and pointed to the address printed on it. "We're going to the Sanchez conglomerate building, of course. What better place to start than there?"

()…()…()…()…()…()

We took the nearest route to the space colony the Sanchez building was located on. By the looks of it, I could tell everyone in it was going to Hell.

The streets were crowded with hurrying people trying to get places. I kept my hands in my pockets, making sure I didn't get pick-pocketed. You could never tell what people will do in a place like this.

I looked up at Faye, who was checking the address on the paper again. "Maybe we should ask for directions, Spike," she said, looking back at me.

"That might work."

We went from store to store, people to people, asking them for the directions to this place. We finally got an answer. An old woman at a vegetable stand pointed us in the right direction. We thanked her and gave her adieu as we headed off for our destination.

The short cut that Faye insisted we take wasn't very short. "Some short cut, Faye," I protested.

"Hey, I got us there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, whatever." We stood before a tall building. I didn't even want to count the floors. We entered through the sliding glass doors and headed for the front desk.

The security officer at the front desk had a serious mono-brow complex. I tried to ignore that as I introduced us and our business. "Yeah, we're here for the job Mrs. Sanchez was offering – looking for her daughter, Emma Sanchez, right?"

The man eyed us curiously from beneath the fuzzy caterpillars he called eye brows. He turned his attention from us to the intercom panel on his desk. Pressing a red button, he said, "Mrs. Sanchez, the bounty hunters are here."

"Bounty hunters" he called us. Well, I couldn't argue against that. I was a bounty hunter.

"Send them up," replied the voice of a worried and anxious woman.

The man at the desk gestured to another man, clad in a black suit and shades, and said, "He'll take you to Mrs. Sanchez."

"Right-o," I said, walking over to the M.I.B. agent. (There's my little joke.)

Faye looked from me and back to Mr. Fuzzy Brows and said, "You know, a brow wax wouldn't hurt. A pair a tweezers can do the job, too."

"Faye," I called, trying to avoid any conflict that woman might bring up.

"Coming, coming, no need to yell!"

We followed the suit into an elevator and stood there while the car brought us up . . . and up . . . and up – I wasn't sure if this trip was ever going to end. Just when I was about to count my blessing, the car stopped and the doors slid open with a ding.

The man looked back at us and gestured towards a large pair of double doors at the end of the lavishly furnished hall the elevator stopped at. "Mrs. Sanchez is waiting in her office. DON'T keep her waiting."

"Heaven forbid," Faye said sarcastically.

"Cool it, Faye," I warned. I knew this part of Faye all too well.

We stepped out of the elevator car and the doors closed behind us. Obviously the suit wasn't joining us.

We made our way down the hall towards the office. Walking down that hall was like walking through a museum of South American artifacts. The walls were hung with paintings and portraits depicting colorful flowers or old adobe clay buildings. Don't ask how I know about this crap. Television can be a Godsend.

I stopped at the double doors, raised my hand to the door knocker – which looked like a golden phoenix – and knocked three times.

"What are you knocking for, Spike?" questioned Faye.

"It's a little something called professional courtesy, Faye. You should learn about it."

I could feel Faye's anger building up as she clenched her fists, ready to knock my lights out. Just as Faye raised her fist, the doors swung open and the warm light in the office flooded in to the hall and washed over us like a tidal wave.

Once my eyes adjusted to the new lighting, I saw clearly what awaited me: To more suits stood by the doors. They must've been the ones who opened them. They gestured for us to come in and we did so.

There was a large, black lacquered desk centered in the middle of a large, Parisian rug. Heaps of papers and manila files loaded the desk and I could see the small, humped figure of an old woman, scribbling something down on one of the many papers with a fine gold pen.

She looked up at us with squinty, kind, smiling brown eyes and placed her pen down carefully on the desk as if the slightest touch would shatter it in to a million pieces. Her long brown hair was streaked with grey and in a single braid over her shoulder.

"Ah, so you took the job, eh?" She directed this question to Faye, I guess, because she didn't pass a glance in my direction.

Faye nodded and said, "My partner here showed some interest in the case, so I brought him along."

Mrs. Sanchez finally diverted those smiling brown eyes in my direction. "What's your name, son?"

I don't know why, but the way she addressed me, as if I were her grandson, calmed something down deep inside of me. I smiled, gave her a small bow, and said, "My name is Spike Spiegel, ma'am."

"Oh," said Mrs. Sanchez absentmindedly as old people often sounded. "That's nice. It's a nice name. I suppose you two would like to gather some more information from this old woman, wouldn't you?"

We nodded our heads simultaneously. "Yes, we have. Uh, where was your daughter last seen, Mrs. Sanchez?"

She squinted her eyes in concentration and scratched her head with a wrinkled finger. It was kind of funny to me the way she looked leaning back in her chair.

Then she told us, "The last I heard of my daughter was that she went to visit a friend on Mars. Such a sweet girl, Carol. Those two were friends since childhood! When Carol moved to Mars with her new husband, Emma would visit them often."

"Do you know the address of Emma's friend, Carol?" Faye asked, taking the words right out of my mouth.

"Ah, yes," said the old woman. She pulled open a drawer at her desk and pulled out a small note pad. Taking her pen, she scribbled down the information and handed the piece of paper to me.

I looked at the paper and was surprised to see that the old woman had excellent penmanship – and also that I knew that address.

I nodded to Mrs. Sanchez with a smile and gave her my thanks. I tucked the familiar address away in my pocket and walked out of the office, Faye following at my heels.

The trip down in the elevator car was a trip in silence. I was trying to collect all the memories from the address, yet they were all faint. I only remembered that address, the way the apartment looked, and how the neighborhood looked.

I could feel the tension from Faye. She wanted to say something, I could sense it. "What is it, Faye?" I finally said after we stepped out of the elevator.

"Do you know this address?" she asked.

I never expected the question to be as blunt as the way she put it. "Yes, I do," I replied.

"Do you know the people who live in that house? Carol or her husband?"

I shrugged, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I took a drag and said, letting the smoke out, "Nope, I've got no clue who those people are."

Faye was aggravated and itching for some more information than that.

Mars – that oh so familiar planet. The planet of my birth. I'd give anything to get off of it at the moment.

Jet kept bugging me to get in on the job Faye and I got. So, just because he's such a good friend, I told him he'd get a part of the bounty. Faye, of course, protested saying that this was our job and that Jet and Edward didn't deserve a cut of the bounty.

So I made a new proposition: Jet and Edward would provide the information we might need in locating Emma Sanchez.

That proved to be helpful. Jet did some research and Ed worked her hacking magic and found out that the happy couple Emma visits owned a bakery shop that was open Monday-Saturday, 12:00 AM - 7:00 PM.

Seeing as it was a Thursday and it was 3:00, we decided to stop by the bakery.

It was cheerful enough for a bakery. There was a cardboard sign out front of a girl in a baker's outfit carrying a tray of pastries in her hands and a smile on her face.

You could smell the baked goods halfway down the street from there – and that was a good smell.

A small bell tied to the door frame jingled when I opened the door, of course letting Faye through first or else she'd throw a hissy-fit – there's a saying I never thought I'd say.

A short woman with long, straight blonde hair and skin the color of cream stood behind the glass counter, helping a little girl with pig-tails pick out some sweets.

She looked up when the bell jingled and said with a smile, "I'll be with you in a minute."

The girl finally picked what she wanted and handed the blonde woman her money. She hurried pass Faye and I with the paper bag filled with her goodies in her arms.

"Can I help you two?" said the blonde.

Faye and I walked up to the counter and Faye said to the smiling woman, "Is your name Carol?"

The woman nodded her head with a cheerful smile and said, "Yes, I it is! I'm Carol Burnett. How may I help you?"

I pulled the picture of Emma Sanchez out of my pocket and showed it to Carol. "Have either you or your husband seen this woman?"

Carol's smile dropped and her bright blue eyes lost their happy sheen. "Oh, Emma . . ."

"So I take it you know her?" Faye asked incredulously.

Carol nodded, a hand to her mouth as she starting biting her nails – must be a nervous habit. "Yes, that's my friend Emma Sanchez. She's been missing for two weeks."

"When was the last time you saw her?" I asked.

"Two weeks ago on a Sunday. We went to the movies with my husband."

"Carol, who are you talking to?" asked a voice from the back room. A tall man with messy, sandy brown hair stepped out from behind the curtain in the door way separating the kitchen from the rest of the store as he wiped his hands on his black apron.

Carol turned to her husband and said, "Oh, Rick, they're looking for Emma!"

"They are?" Rick asked. He turned to us and gave a small bow. "Please, have you found out anything yet? My wife and I are very worried. Emma is a good friend of ours."

Faye sighed and said, "We haven't found out anything useful yet, but when we do, you will be informed, OK?"

Rick nodded and gave his thanks.

Faye turned back to Carol and said, "After you two went to the movies with Emma, did she tell you where she was going to go?"

"Yeah, she said she had to meet a client in the city so she took a cab after we got out of the movies," Rick said.

"A client?" I asked. "What exactly did Emma do?"

"Besides running her family's business, she takes off hand jobs as a masseuse," Carol said. "She got her degree as a chiropractor, you know, just to have something to do in collage than get drunk and go to sorority parties."

Faye let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a real go-getter."

"Yeah, Emma was always a wild card," Rick said. "A complete opposite of Carol."

Carol laughed and said, "I was never much of a party person."

"Well, you should get out more," I said bluntly. "Do you know where Emma went to meet with her clients?"

Carol nodded and said, "Yes, she goes to the clients' homes for their appointments."

"Did she tell you who her client was?" Faye asked.

Carol shook her head and said, "No, but she did leave her brief case at my house when she last came to visit. It had her agenda and some other things in it. Will that help?"

I nodded with a smile and said, "That'll be perfect."

They closed the shop early that day and took us to their apartment to get the briefcase.

Emma had a lot on her agenda, by the looks of it. Her brief case was filled with all sorts of papers that would take some time to sift through. We thanked Carol and Rick and headed back for the Bebop – with a bag full of baked goodies they gave to repay us for searching for Emma – to do some research – or rather have Jet and Edward do some research.

I was never much of a researching person.

To Be Continued . . .

Author's Note: TA-DAA! I know it's not that long, but there will be many, many, many, chapters to compensate for the shortness of each chapter. nn

I'm trying to keep the chapters short to build up the suspense. nn

Is it working? Please tell me. I'd appreciate everyone's reviews on my story, be they good, bad, or completely random. I'm a fan of randomness. D


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